


No Glory in War

by haventacluewhatimdoing



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fluff, M/M, Rated t cos it's some sad story that may be upsetting, allusion to s2ep3 but nothing outright, basically the Captain's life story, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haventacluewhatimdoing/pseuds/haventacluewhatimdoing
Summary: "People died. So many people died. I never saw the end of it. Still feel like it's going on. That's how I can tell you that it wasn't a happy time."The Captain shares the truth about the war.
Relationships: The Captain/Pat (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	No Glory in War

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea came to me late at night (and was also written late at night). I have taken bits of stories from real people along with artistic licence, but this is an entirely plausible life for someone the Captain's age. The stories of Pat's and Alison's family are also entirely plausible. Some bakers were exempt from conscription as they were needed to bake bread.
> 
> It wasn't going to be a captain/Pat fic, but it ended up that way.
> 
> It says in tags, but this is rated t because there are some deep feels in this fic.
> 
> As always, written on my phone so apologies for any errors.
> 
> The second world war is close to my heart, and I really hope I did it justice.
> 
> This whole fic is really just me explaining why wars and other tragic events shouldn't be glorified. If you weren't there, I don't think you should make a sad event seem happy.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I've never written anything like this before, so kudos and comments will really make me day!
> 
> Onto the story!

Alison was a bit of a history nerd, which she considered a good thing. Living with ghosts had definitely helped her understand the past better, and all of them had interesting stories to tell - yes, even Julian occasionally.

It also helped when the Captain wanted to watch yet another war documentary. She often joined him - after all, her grandparents lived through it, bless their souls. She loved to listen to their stories when she was little.

Today Pat had joined her and the Captain to watch one of the said documentaries.

"I was born just after, you know. I like to know what was going on in the world at that time."

This week's episode had taken a different turn. Instead of focusing on the war itself, they were showing photos of dances and women working in bomb factories. They all seemed so cheerful, and it put a smile on Alison's face. 

"You know, my grandparents used to say that the war years were the best of their lives. Carrying on regardless. They met at a dance. Couldn't take their eyes off one another. Rather cute, really." Alison stared off into the distance wistfully. She missed her grandparents - they had the kindest souls.

"My father didn't fight. He was a baker. Had to stay home baking bread for everyone. It's where he met my mum. She ran in to their shop, looking like she was dragged through a hedge backwards. My father found it rather endearing, and the rest is history. They loved the war dances, the adrenaline. I wish I could have experienced it." Pat smiled. The Captain hadn't looked away from the screen once.

"Captain? You were there, you must have some good stories." The Captain cleared his throat and immediately stood up.  
"I think I'll retire early tonight," he said, and briskly walked out of the room. Pat and Alison were left staring at each other. What was that all about?

"I'm going to go and check on him. Could you make sure the other ghosts don't interrupt us?" Pat said quietly.

"Of course." Pat stood up and slowly made his way up the stairs, towards the Captain's bedroom. It was at times like these he wished he could touch things, as a knock on the door would do perfectly at this moment. Instead he coughed gently, and peered into the room. The Captain was sitting on his bed, looking out the window.  
"Cap?" He turned round. "Is it okay if I come in?" The Captain huffed.  
"If you must." Pat sat down gingerly on the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Captain went first, still looking out at the countryside.

"The war wasn't pretty. I was too young to fight in the first, too old to fight in the second. But I heard stories. I lost men, good men." He shifted a bit on the bed, towards Pat.

"Everyone glorifies the war. Saying it was the best time of their life. It wasn't, not living through it. It was only a happy time in retrospect. People died. So many people died. I never saw the end of it. Still feel like it's going on. That's how I can tell you that it wasn't a happy time."

Pat slowly moved his hand onto the Captain's knee. He knew the Captain was stuck in the past, but he had never imagined just how much pain his friend was going through.

"I lost my father in the Great War. Nothing great about it. All those sacrifices, for nothing. The rest of my family died in the Blitz. Bomb dropped on the house. One of the first casualties of the war. I was on my way here. If I had left a day later I would have died." Tears were rolling down the Captain's cheeks, but he didn't stop. He had never discussed his past with anyone, stiff upper lip and all. But something about Pat made him trust him instinctively.

"I dedicated my life to work. I had nothing else to live for. I never attended the dances, never had a sweetheart. I was far too old, and..." he took a deep breath, "I was a homosexual. Not much chance of me finding love." He chuckled weakly.

"Oh Cap," Pat pulled the Captain into a side hug. He never thought of it from this perspective. Of course he knew the war horrific, but all the stories from survivors were amazing. He took in a deep breath. Right. He heard the stories from the survivors. Not the casualties. You never heard the stories from the millions who died. Only the lucky ones.

"There was one," the Captain continued. "He was my lieutenant. He was the best thing that ever happened in my bleak life. But even he went in the end. North Africa front. Never returned. Missing, presumed dead." Pat squeezed his arm around the Captain a little tighter.

"I never told him. I was too much of a coward. I think he knew, though. Only problem was it was illegal. After he went, there wasn't much worth living for. There's no glory in war. I can't stand people who try to make it look better than it was. I wish they could hear the stories of those who didn't make it." He turned to Pat. "I apologise for putting all this on you, Patrick. Ignore a silly old man, would you?" Pat raised a hand to the Captain's cheek and wiped away a stray tear.

"Cap, this is your life. It's important. It's not a burden. Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry for idolising the war, and I'm sure Alison is too." He leant forwards and gave the Captain a long, firm hug. As he pulled back, he said,  
"Maybe there is a way of getting your story out there."  
"What do you mean, Patrick?"  
"Alison runs this history blog thing. No, I don't know what that word means either. But she writes about stories from people from many aspects of life. She could do one about yours, if you'd like."

The Captain lent back into the embrace the two men had stayed in.  
"That’s not a half bad idea."  
"Not just a pretty face," Pat chuckled.  
"No, but it does help." The Captain breathed, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder.

About 5 seconds passed before both of them realised what he had said. The Captain sat up fast, and stared at Pat, whose eyes had widened considerably.  
"I'm sorry, that was terribly improper of me, I..." The Captain trailed off as Pat pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. He laced their fingers together, and whispered,  
"Is this okay?" The Captain nodded numbly before returning his head to Pat's shoulder.

They sat there in comfortable silence, before making their way down to Alison, fingers still interlocked. After quickly explaining everything, Alison apologised profusely to the Captain, and agreed to write his story for her next blog post. She also couldn't help smiling at the joined hands between the two ghosts. So they had finally got their act together.

There was no glory in war. But, as the Captain started to realise, the war was over. It was time to move on.


End file.
